


Bright and Merry Days

by kirallea



Category: She-Ra and the Princesses of Power (2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Awkward Flirting, Christmas, Christmas Fluff, F/F, Hot Chocolate, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Romance, Small Towns, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, Winter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-22
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:27:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 18,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27813010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kirallea/pseuds/kirallea
Summary: Catra returns to her childhood hometown and gets a job at the local Christmas market. While some things have changed, a lot remains the same, including her feelings for a certain Christmas-tree-selling girl.
Relationships: Adora/Catra (She-Ra)
Comments: 64
Kudos: 247





	1. Chapter 1

The sign on Catra’s stall says _Mulled wine, hot chocolate & other warm drinks_ in elegant red letters. She knows from the get-go her stall will be a popular one; it’s located near the main stage, sandwiched between a baked goods stall and a Christmas craft workshop. There must be another food stall somewhere nearby, because there’s the distinct smell of potato pancakes and fries in the air, thick and greasy and oddly comforting. It takes her right back to her childhood, conjures up memories of visiting this same Christmas market as a little girl. It’s more than she can deal with right now, the jumble of thoughts and feelings and emotions, so she pushes them deep down inside her heart, decides to come back to them -- later.

She’s crouching on the snowy ground, a half-opened cardboard box in front of her, when the door to the baked goods stall swings open and a girl with short, wavy hair walks out. 

“Hi,” the girl says. “Is that your stall?”

Catra looks up at her. 

“Yeah?” It’s an answer and a question, all in one breath. 

“This one is mine,” the girl says, pointing at the stall behind her. “Listen, I have a idea.”

Catra blinks, bites her tongue to keep from asking, _what do you want?_

“We could cover for each other during breaks, or at least let the customers know if the other person is away,” the girl says. “There’s no need to worry about anything getting stolen, but leaving a stall unattended is not exactly good for business. What do you say?”

Catra sucks in a deep breath. There’s only one right answer to the question. “Um, sure.”

“Great!” The girl spins around and walks back inside, leaving the door open behind her. “Feel free to grab a cinnamon roll while you’re in here!”

“I don’t even know your name!” Catra yells after her.

“It’s Glimmer! Yours?”

“Catra!”

“Nice to meet you, Catra! See you around!”

Catra shakes her head and goes back to opening the box, wondering what she just agreed to.

It’s the opening night, and it feels like the whole town is here, the visitors happy to immerse themselves in the festive atmosphere even though it’s not even December yet. Catra’s stall has a steady stream of customers throughout the day, and even when people are not lining up for a drink of their choice, she’s busy cleaning up or getting ready for the next wave of customers. It’s hard work, not only physically but also mentally, makes her wonder why she even took the job in the first place. She has never cared for Christmas, or holidays in any way, and doesn’t exactly enjoy serving customers either, even though she has worked similar jobs before. Still, she needs the money, and any job is better than staying home with Mother, who is just as much of a despicable human being as she has always been.

Across the lane from her stall, there’s a Christmas tree maze, and right next to it, an assortment of trees for sale, rows and rows of firs and pines in all shapes and sizes. Catra leans over the counter for a closer look, and her heart jumps in her chest when she realizes who is standing in front of the trees. Adora is bright-eyed and red-cheeked, her breath coming in wispy clouds as she talks to a small group of customers. She’s bundled up in a bright red winter coat, a thick wool scarf wrapped around her neck. She still wears her hair in a ponytail. She’s still pretty, if not even prettier than when they were kids, except she’s all grown-up now, tall and confident and broad-shouldered. Catra busies herself arranging napkins on the counter, stomach fluttering in a way it has not since she was a tiny ten-year-old.

It’s getting dark, but the Christmas market is a world of its own, the stalls bathed in the soft glow of the fairy lights overhead. A group of carolers have taken the stage, greeting the visitors with well-loved melodies of the season. Catra allows herself to zone out for a moment, which turns out to be a mistake, because she almost jumps when she catches sight of a movement out of the corner of her eye, something red and oddly familiar.

Adora stands in front of the stall, hands stuffed in the pockets of her coat.

“How much for a hot chocolate?” she asks, eyes flickering to Catra’s.

“Three fifty, but vendors get fifty percent off,” Catra says, heart already pounding in her chest.

“I think I have just the right amount -- right here,” Adora says, dropping a handful of coins on the counter. 

Catra is glad she has to turn away from Adora in order to prepare the drink. The warmth of the cup feels good on her hands; the gentle burn is enough to keep her calm and grounded, focused on her task. Careful not to spill the drink, she sets it down in front of Adora, waits for her to pick it up. She does, but instead of walking away, she -- lingers. She props an elbow on the counter, takes a sip of her drink, and throws a glance around her surroundings.

“So,” she says, voice conversational and friendly. “You’ve had a lot of customers today.”

Catra hums in agreement, surprised Adora has noticed this. “I guess people like walking around the market with their drinks.”

“I’ve only sold a few trees today, but that’s how it always is in the beginning,” Adora says. “Most people tend to buy their trees closer to Christmas.”

“So you’ve worked here before, huh?” Catra doesn’t know what to do with this piece of information, but it doesn’t seem completely irrelevant. 

“Yeah, for the last few years. It’s a tradition at this point.”

“Do you like it?” Catra asks. If she doesn’t keep herself occupied, there’s a real chance she’ll blurt out the question she’s been desperate to ask ever since Adora showed up at her stall: _Do you remember me? Do you still think about me sometimes?_

“I do,” Adora says. “I know some people say it makes them hate Christmas, but I have never really felt that way. Everyone’s super nice here, and the perks are amazing, too.”

“Um. Cool.” 

Catra hates herself for being so awkward. She can’t decide whether she wants to continue this conversation or not. She wants Adora to stay, wants to know more about her life, but it’s been ten long years, and things are not what they used to be--

“I think I should go,” Adora says. “I’ll be back for sure, okay? I’m glad this stall is right here, you know. See you later!”

She’s gone before Catra can say anything, threading her way through the crowd, the cup of chocolate still in her hand. Catra lets out an exhale and tears her eyes away from Adora, reaching for a cup of her own. If there’s one good thing about working here, it’s the fact that she can drink as much mulled wine as she wants. She wasn’t planning on taking advantage of this perk until later, but if she doesn’t swallow these feelings down with something hot and spicy _right now_ , she might find herself in a strikingly similar situation as she did all those years ago, which is something she can’t allow to happen.

\--

Later that night, the memory comes back to her. 

She had been ten years old, and for some reason, she had ended up at the Christmas market with the rest of her elementary school class, everyone too restless to go home after what had felt like a long day at school. A group of girls had made fun of her for not being able to afford a cup of hot chocolate, causing her to storm off in tears. She’d ended up sitting at the edge of the empty stage, sniffling and wiping her face on the back of her glove. It had been an earth-shattering experience at the time, something she thought she would never be able to recover from, even though she’d been through much worse, even at that age. 

And then, just as she’d been about to head home, Adora had emerged from the crowd, holding a cup of hot chocolate in each hand. She’d sat down next to Catra, and Catra had accepted the drink from her, wide-eyed but grateful. Even though Adora was the closest to what Catra could call a friend at the time, she would have never thought Adora would go to such great lengths to make her feel included, especially since she had always been the popular girl in school and got along with everyone, even the mean girls. In hindsight, it’s obvious Adora was always more interested in hanging out with her than anyone else, even though she couldn’t, and still doesn’t, understand why.

Ten years later, the memory is still fresh in her mind, pristine and picture-perfect. She still remembers the rich, creamy taste of chocolate on her tongue, the twinkling lights of the big Christmas tree in front of her. Adora’s smile had been bright and pretty, and when she’d reached out to take the empty cup from Catra’s hand, their fingers had brushed against each other. There had been a tug at Catra’s heart, something warm and sweet and pleasant, and that’s when -- that’s when she had known. 

\--

On the second night, after the Christmas market has closed for the day, Catra finds herself sitting on the edge of the now-empty stage, a cup of hot chocolate cradled in her hands. Everybody else has already gone home, and the place is uncharacteristically quiet, but not in an eerie way. The fairy lights cast a warm glow on the closed stalls, and the snow shines as bright as ever, a mirror image of the full moon in the black-blue sky. Catra takes a sip of her drink and breathes in the sweet scent, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. She’s not in a hurry to go home.

“Oh, hey,” a familiar voice says. “I thought there was no one else around.”

Catra jumps a little, her eyes snapping open, but she relaxes when she realizes it’s only Adora, even though it doesn’t make this any less awkward. Adora stands in front of her, holding a pile of cardboard boxes, her face a picture of confusion and curiosity.

“Sorry,” Catra says, mumbling. “I was just about to--”

“No, no, it’s okay,” Adora says. “It’s not like I’m going to kick you out or something.”

Catra looks down at her cup, at the thin layer of foam on the surface of the drink. “I wasn’t expecting anyone else to be here at this hour, either.”

“I usually stay around for a while and do all the things nobody else wants to do,” Adora says. “Picking up trash, emptying trash cans, stuff like that. I mean, someone’s got to do it, right?”

Catra just nods, not knowing what to say. 

“Do you mind if I sit here?” Adora asks.

“Go ahead,” Catra says, even though she’d rather be left alone.

Adora drops the boxes and flops down next to her, stretching out her legs, the heels of her boots touching the ground. Catra takes a slow sip of her drink, happy to have something to do with her hands. Even though she’s not looking at Adora, she’s acutely aware of her presence and the way she holds her body, the slightly tense set of her shoulders. She must be nervous, too; they’re essentially strangers to each other, at least in some sense of the word.

“It’s funny.” Adora stares off into the distance, in the direction of the big Christmas tree. “I remember drinking hot chocolate with you in this exact same spot when we were kids.”

Catra looks up at her, wide-eyed with surprise. “You remember?”

“Yeah. It was, what, ten years ago?”

“Something like that, yeah.”

Adora shakes her head a little, lets out a strained laugh. “This is so surreal. It’s almost like déjà vu.”

Catra swallows. “Is that a bad thing?”

“No, not at all.” Adora sits up straighter and pulls one leg up to her chest. “I’m sorry I didn’t say anything yesterday. It’s just -- you never really know how to talk to someone who may or may not remember you.”

_Are you kidding?_ Catra wants to say. _How could I not remember you? I remember you. I remember the way you smiled at me, the way our fingers brushed against each other--_

“It has been a while,” she says instead. “I’ve been gone for as long as I was ever here.” 

“Well, I’m glad you’re back.” Adora says it like she means it, really means it, and it’s enough to put a lump in Catra’s throat, her chest welling with emotion. No one has ever told her that, except for her grandmother, maybe, and if things don’t go well, she might not be able to hear those words ever again, not from her. 

“I’m not planning on staying here for long.” The confidence in her own voice surprises her. “Until the end of the year, maybe.”

“Oh,” Adora says, and Catra’s not entirely sure, but she thinks she hears a hint of disappointment in her voice, even though it’s impossible, nothing more than wishful thinking. “Are you going back to where you live?”

“I don’t know. I hope so.”

“You know, I always wondered--” Adora trails off, turns her head away from her. “No, sorry. It’s none of my business, obviously.”

“It’s fine,” Catra says, even though she doesn’t really feel like talking about this subject right now. “I never had a chance to explain what happened. Anyway, I moved in with my grandma. She lives in Salineas.”

“Wow,” Adora says. “It must have been a big change for you. Moving to a new place at such a young age can’t be easy.”

“It was a big change, but for the better. I’m glad it happened.”

Adora hums in response. She doesn’t ask her to elaborate, doesn’t even ask her why she’s back in town, which is something Catra appreciates. She doesn’t like people who don’t mind their own business, even if the other person is clearly uncomfortable with the subject.

“Would you mind if I stayed around after work and helped you out?” Catra asks, before she’s even had a chance to think this through.

“What?” Adora says, blinking. She looks dazed, like she can’t believe her ears. “No, of course not. The area’s pretty big, so I’d appreciate the help. Do you really want to do it?”

“Yeah,” Catra says, and closes her mouth before she can say, _I’d much rather spend time with you than with Mother._

“You don’t get paid for doing it. It’s volunteer work, basically.”

“I don’t care. I’m not doing it for the money. I just want to -- help, I guess.”

“We could talk to the organizer tomorrow if you want?” Adora says. “I mean, I already know they’re going to say yes, but we should let them know about this, anyway.”

“Sure,” Catra says. And then, finally, she allows herself to really look at Adora, to take in all the little details she had forgotten, the expressiveness of her eyes and the slight upturn of her nose, the curve of her lower lip. “Thanks.”

“Are you kidding? I’m the one who should thank you. You just made this job a lot more fun.”

There it is again, that smile, too bright to look at directly. Catra turns away a little too quickly, but it’s already too late. She’s burning, the flame in her chest growing stronger, but instead of hurting, it keeps her warm, even on this cold winter night.

\--

Sometimes, Catra leans over the counter, looks out at the row of wooden stalls lining the snow-covered lane, and thinks that maybe working here is not as awful as she had thought, after all. It’s a Wednesday night, the least busy day at the market so far, and the world is unbelievably pretty, like a picture straight out of a children’s story book. Snow falls from the sky in big, fluffy flakes, a chain of tiny little lights in the darkness. There’s the unmistakable smell of gingerbread in the air, a charming combination of sugar and cinnamon. And if she strains her ears, she can hear the melody of an old-time Christmas carol over the chatter of the crowd, delicate and nostalgic.

Across the lane, Adora’s in the middle of a conversation with Bow, her hands moving animatedly as she speaks. The only thing Catra knows about Bow is that he works at the outdoor skating rink in the town square, renting out skates for those who don’t have their own pair. Catra doesn’t remember seeing him around when she was a kid, but he seems to be good friends with Adora, the two of them hanging out at least once a day. Glimmer’s part of what Catra once heard Bow call the Best Friends Squad, too, and even though Catra didn’t come here to make friends, she would be lying if she said she didn’t want to be included in the group--

Catra busies herself wiping the counter, eyes lingering on Adora and Bow. Bow says something to Adora, and Adora laughs awkwardly, rubbing the back of her neck. They glance over at Catra’s stall, trying not to make it too obvious but failing miserably. Adora nods her head in her direction, and then they’re coming over, Bow heading to Glimmer’s stall while Adora makes her way over to Catra’s.

“It’s _so_ cold today,” she says in lieu of a greeting, breath coming in frosty puffs. “Can I get a -- what? Why are you laughing at me?”

“I’m not laughing at you,” Catra says, even though she kind of is, her shoulders bouncing uncontrollably. “You look funny, that’s all. There’s snow in your hair.”

“Oh.” Adora touches the top of her head with a gloved hand, obviously self-conscious.

“Don’t worry,” Catra says, turning around to fill an empty cup with mulled wine. “It looks kind of -- cool.”

(She can never say what she wants to say, so she just repeats the words in her head. _You look cute, you look cute, you look cute._ )

“You know, sometimes I wish I was working at your stall,” Adora says, dropping her hand. “I bet it’s warm and cozy in there.”

Catra snorts. 

“It’s not.” She leans over the counter to hand the cup to Adora, careful not to let their fingers brush in the process. “But I guess it’s better than having no shelter at all.”

Adora quirks an eyebrow at her. “I’m sure handing out hot drinks all day keeps your hands warm, at least.”

“Yeah, and being able to drink as much hot chocolate as I want definitely helps.”

“That, too,” Adora says. “But I can think of other reasons for wanting to work at your stall.”

Catra pauses, her mind going blank for an embarrassingly long moment. She puts her hands on the counter, heart already beating faster in her chest.

“Like what?” She’s proud of herself for managing to sound almost casual. 

“Is that a potential customer?” Adora says, staring vaguely in the direction of her trees. “I have to go. Thanks for the mulled wine!”

And then she’s gone, ponytail swinging as she makes her way back to her usual spot. She’s surprisingly fast when she wants to be, slipping through the crowd with the ease of someone who is used to dodging people in the narrow lanes of the market. Catra’s still frozen in place, thoughts scattering in a thousand directions at once. There’s no way Adora meant what she thinks she meant. There’s an endless amount of possibilities, explanations, _reasons--_

But then another customer shows up and she doesn’t have time to think anymore, which is a relief.

\--

“Do you know Glimmer?” Catra asks Adora the next day, when the market has closed for the day and it’s just the two of them left in the town square, their voices loud in the deep silence of the night. “The girl who runs the baked goods stall?”

“Yeah,” Adora says. “We’re friends. Why are you asking?”

“I was just wondering. I don’t remember seeing her around when we were kids.”

“She moved here maybe -- five years ago? We went to the same high school and graduated together.”

“Oh. That explains why she didn’t look familiar.”

The corners of Adora’s mouth curl up in a hint of a smile. “Glimmer’s fun. A little stubborn, sometimes, but she’s a good friend. You help each other out, right?”

“Yeah. It’s not a bad arrangement. I get to eat as many pretzels as I want, and she gets to drink as much coffee as she possibly can.”

“Ooh, nice,” Adora says. “I should introduce you to Bow some time. He’s the guy who works at the outdoor skating rink.”

“That’s another thing I wanted to ask you about. Am I supposed to know him or something?”

“He lives a couple of towns over and is only in the area around this time of year,” Adora says. “As far as I know, he’s never spent that much time in Bright Moon.”

“So you two met here at work?”

“Yeah. We started on the same day and just kind of gravitated towards each other from the beginning. Everything was overwhelming and confusing at first, so it was nice to have someone who was going through the same thing as I was.”

“Meeting new people here is such a strange experience,” Catra says. “Bright Moon is small enough that usually you just see the same people all the time.”

“I know. I mean, I really love this place, but at the same time, I’m starting to get a little tired of it.”

They find themselves standing next to the outdoor skating rink, tucked away in the corner of the market square. The surface of the ice shines like a diamond in the dark, lit by two rows of overhead lights. If Catra closes her eyes, she can almost hear the scrape of blades on the ice, the squeals of laughter from kids having fun.

“When was the last time you went skating?” Adora asks.

“No idea. Middle school, maybe?”

“You haven’t skated in _years_? We need to fix that.”

“What? No, Adora--”

Adora is already on her way, motioning Catra to follow her. 

“Come on, Catra,” she says. “I know where Bow keeps the skates.”

Catra hurries to catch up with Adora, snow crunching under her boots. She’s not particularly fond of skating, but she likes the thrill of sneaking around late at night, especially if she gets to do it with Adora. She’s fairly sure she’d do anything Adora asks her to at this point, if not for anything else than to tease that smile out of her, to see the way her eyes light up at the prospect of an adventure, no matter how small it might be.

They sit down on the bench to put their skates on. It’s difficult to focus on tying the laces when Adora sits so close to her, their arms brushing against each other every now and then, each touch igniting a spark of warmth inside of her. Catra stands up carefully, the skates heavy on her feet, and the next thing she knows, Adora is pulling her towards the rink, grip firm but gentle around Catra’s wrist.

“Let me guess,” Catra says when they stumble onto the ice, holding each other for support. “You come here all the time and are really good at this.”

“Not really,” Adora replies cheerfully. “Once or twice a year, maybe. I’m too busy selling trees.”

She lets go of Catra and turns backwards, keeping her eyes on her as she glides towards the center of the ice. Catra follows her, wobbly and embarrassingly out of her element. She tries to bend her knees, tries to keep her shoulders relaxed, and somehow, she’s able to keep her balance, to move across the ice with relative ease, drawn to Adora and her smile. 

It’s not nearly as bad as she had thought. In fact, it’s kind of fun, especially since they have the ice to themselves. They skate laps around the rink, try everything from spinning to etching patterns on the ice. There are a few falls, but it doesn’t matter. She’s having fun, and Adora is smiling at her, eyes alight with unbridled joy.

(She would do anything to see that smile. Anything, anything, anything. She’s getting too soft for her own good.)

“Good, good,” Adora says as she watches Catra glide across the ice with one foot in the air. Catra has made it her mission to reach the bright red line painted on the ice without putting her foot down, and she’s almost there, so close--

But then her skate gets caught on a rut and she lands on the ice, only inches away from the line. It doesn’t hurt, far from it -- her coat is thick enough to protect her from any real harm, and the ice is not as hard as she has thought, not as unforgiving. She rolls onto her back, and it’s a little embarrassing, but there’s also laughter bubbling out of her, impossible to contain.

“You were so close!” Adora says, leaning over her. She’s laughing, too, shoulders shaking. 

“I know!”

“You should have seen your face,” Adora says. “It was like -- like--”

“Shut up,” Catra says, giggling. She reaches out and yanks at Adora’s hand, and Adora falls down beside her, a mess of flailing limbs and laughter.

“Look,” Catra says. “At least I was _moving_. You were just standing there, and you still--”

“Shut up,” Adora says, mimicking her. “You pulled me down!”

“You were laughing at me!”

“You were laughing first!”

Catra sucks in a deep breath, lets out a content huff. They’re lying on their backs on the ice, a blanket of stars twinkling down at them from the black-blue sky. And for once, everything is right in the world.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **Content warning:** There's a scene in this chapter where the characters discuss abusive parents. There are no detailed descriptions of abuse, but please be cautious if this is something you don't want to read about.

Being able to see Adora from her stall is more distracting than Catra wants to admit. December is in full swing, and the Christmas tree park is becoming an increasingly popular attraction, the lanes filled with people admiring the ornaments or looking for a tree to bring home. Adora doesn’t have time to stand around anymore. She spends her days moving firs and pines and spruces from one place to another, trimming branches, cutting stumps. She talks to customers, helping them figure out the right tree for their homes and needs, charming them with her smile. Catra is charmed by her, too, charmed by the easy confidence in her stance, the way she keeps carrying trees over her shoulder like it’s nothing--

“Um, hello?” someone says, and Catra reacts on instinct, standing up so fast she bangs her knee against the counter.

“Oh, fuck,” she says, the pain pulsing through her leg, sharp and sudden. 

“Whoa,” Bow says, wide-eyed, his expression a mixture of surprise and concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah.” Catra grits her teeth, reaching down to rub her knee. “Everything’s great.”

Bow doesn’t look convinced, but he lets the subject drop, something Catra is grateful for. “Hey, do you know where Glimmer is?”

“She’s on a break,” Catra says. “Do you want to buy something?”

“No, no,” Bow says quickly, waving his hands. “I can wait for her to come back. It’s not a problem, really. I’m on a break, too, so I’m -- not in a hurry.”

Catra squints at him but doesn’t say anything. Over the past week, Bow’s been over at Glimmer’s stall at least once a day, munching on pretzels and giggling at everything she says, like a thirteen-year-old trying to impress a crush. Catra can’t stand it. There’s something obnoxious about it, the way he tries to be all coy about it, even though it’s painfully obvious that he likes her. Catra’s surprised Glimmer hasn’t noticed anything, even though she’s fairly sure Glimmer likes him, too. She just hides it much better than he does and doesn’t resort to theatrics in order to get his attention. 

“You should just ask her out, you know,” she says, matter-of-fact.

Bow makes a weird noise, something between a gasp and a strangled laugh.

“Wha--no--”

“Seriously, this is getting embarrassing,” Catra says. “Don’t make it more difficult than it is.”

Bow takes a deep breath, obviously trying to regain his composure. When he speaks next, there is a forced calmness in his voice, exaggerated to the point of almost being ridiculous. “Well, I could say the same to you.”

Catra recoils in horror. “What? Why would I ever ask Sparkles out?”

“I wasn’t talking about Glimmer,” he says, and then he turns his head, eyes drifting to something -- someone standing further away. Catra follows his gaze, and her stomach drops when she realizes who he’s looking at, the well-guarded secret dangerously close to being exposed. 

“I can’t,” Catra says, averting her eyes. “You don’t understand. It’s -- it’s complicated.”

“Well, my situation is complicated, too.”

“In what way?”

“I--” Bow begins, but then his head whips around, his shoulders tensing up, and Catra knows they’re not alone anymore.

“Oh, hi, Bow,” Glimmer says, appearing at his side. She looks surprised but pleased to see him, a smile already making its way on her lips. 

Bow shoots Catra a wide-eyed look. It’s a look that says, _please don’t ever let her know_. Catra is fairly sure she looks just as alarmed as he does, like a kid caught stealing a cookie from a jar. She doesn’t know how much Glimmer heard from their conversation, but she hopes it wasn’t enough for her to figure out what’s going on. She’s already reeling from the fact that Bow knows, and she’s definitely not ready to let anyone else in on the secret, not now and not ever. 

“Glimmer, hi!” Bow says, spinning around to face Glimmer. “I, uh, thought I’d pop over for a quick snack. I’m _so_ hungry, you know, and it was time for a break, anyway, so, um, I -- which one should I try today? I’m getting kind of tired of pretzels, you know--”

Glimmer walks back to her stall and Bow follows her, throwing Catra one last look over his shoulder. Catra locks eyes with him just long enough to let him know he has nothing to worry about. She might shake her head at his awkward attempts at courtship, but she would never expose someone if they’re not ready to talk about their feelings, and even though she doesn’t know Bow that well, she’s sure he won’t say anything to Adora, either. 

(She’s good at keeping secrets, anyway. Now, she just has another secret to keep.)

\--

Saturdays are always busy at the Christmas market, and today is no exception. The visitors have the opportunity to meet Santa on the main stage, and the place is teeming with families, all the kids so excited to get their picture taken with him that they can barely contain themselves. There’s a long line in front of Catra’s stall, too, an endless stream of bright eyes and toothy grins. There’s laughter and crying and screaming, the usually ever-present Christmas carols drowned out by the wall of noise. Catra grinds her teeth together, tries to keep her customer service voice intact, and thinks, _two and a half weeks and then you don’t have to deal with any of this ever again_.

The morning passes in a blur, and the next thing she knows, she’s stumbling out of her stall, ready for a break. 

“Catra!” Glimmer pokes her head out of her stall. “Where are you going?”

Catra glances at her over her shoulder.

“Lunch,” she says. “Thanks for helping me out!”

“No, wait!” Glimmer whips off her apron and tosses it on the counter. “I’m coming with you.”

“I thought you were the one who suggested we cover for each other during breaks.”

Glimmer rolls her eyes at this.

“Oh, please.” She takes out her phone, the tip of her tongue peeking out of her mouth as she types furiously, fingers flying over the keys. “Just wait until--”

Two girls appear out of nowhere, their faces vaguely familiar. Catra squints at them, trying to figure out where she’s seen them before, but Glimmer is already pulling her away from the stalls and into the crowd.

“You have no idea how happy I am to get out of here for a while,” Glimmer says. “It’s total madness -- oh, hey, Adora and Bow! Guys, over here! Let’s go get something to eat!”

Catra lets out an annoyed huff. So much for a peaceful lunch break.

(But then Adora falls into step with her, red-cheeked and breathless and brimming with life, and Catra’s stomach is doing somersaults again, like she has never seen a pretty girl before in her life. It’s ridiculous; she really is no better at this than Bow, no matter how much she tries to convince herself otherwise.

This will be the highlight of her day.)

“Is this the first time we’re all having lunch together?” Bow asks as they squeeze their way through the masses of people. 

“I think it is,” Glimmer says, practically shouting the words. She’s clutching at Bow’s arm to keep them from getting separated in the push and pull of the crowd, and Catra could never muster up enough courage to do that, never ever--

“What do you guys usually eat?” Adora asks.

“You know the cute little hut just off the rink?” Bow says.

“The log-walled one?”

“Yeah, exactly. They sell rice pudding over there, and it’s _delicious_ , especially with cinnamon and sugar--”

Catra doesn’t really pay attention to the conversation. She looks at Santa as they walk past the stage, distracted by his benevolent smile, the way he leans over to hear what his young guests are going to say. She wouldn’t be surprised if it was the same guy who used to play Santa at the Christmas market when she was a little girl. The man certainly looks like it, even though it’s difficult to tell, with so much of his face obscured by the hat and the beard.

“Lucky kids,” Bow says. He’s staring at them, too, a wistful look in his eyes. “Why are they the only ones who are allowed to have fun?”

Adora raises an eyebrow at him. “What’s stopping you from having fun now?”

Bow turns his head slowly, as if he can’t quite comprehend what Adora just said. “Do you mean--”

The corner of Adora’s mouth quirks up into a half-smile. “I would totally get my picture taken with Santa if you guys are up for it.”

“Are you serious?” There’s a gleam of hope in Bow’s eyes now, childlike and innocent.

“Of course,” Adora says. “How about you, Glimmer?”

Glimmer shrugs. “I guess it could be fun.”

“Aw, you guys,” Bow says, obviously touched. “You’re the best.”

“Are you coming?” Adora asks Catra. 

Catra folds her arms over her chest and looks away. “No way. It’s for kids. I’m not five years old, Adora.”

“Neither are we,” Adora says cheerfully, and then, her voice takes on a coaxing tone. “Come on, Catra. It’s just a quick picture. The line’s not even that long.”

She’s dangerous like this, using a voice like that, low and sweet and pleasant, but Catra has made up her mind. She doesn’t like the awkwardness that comes with having to interact with someone in a costume. She doesn’t like getting her picture taken. She doesn’t like this idea, and she’s not going to give in, she’s not going to give in, she’s not going to give in-- 

“Okay,” she says, grumbling. “Two minutes, and then I’m out.”

Adora and Bow whoop in triumph, beaming at each other. Glimmer shakes her head at them, but there’s a fond look on her face, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. Catra makes a half-hearted attempt to hide her own smile, but it’s impossible. Adora’s joy is contagious, and she’s lucky to be part of it. 

The stage has been turned into a makeshift Santa’s office, complete with Christmas trees and shining baubles and heavy canvas mailbags. Santa is seated in what looks like a very comfortable rocking chair, his plump hands resting on the wooden armrests. Bow and Glimmer sit down on one side of him and Catra and Adora on the other, the four of them scooting closer to him to make sure they’re all in the picture. 

Catra presses her shoulder against Adora’s, allows her thigh to brush against hers. They’ve never sat so close to each other before. She’s acutely aware of all the places their bodies are touching, every nerve alight with electricity. It’s exhilarating and nerve-racking at once.

“Great!” the girl behind the camera says. “Now look over here, show me your best smile, and make a wish!”

Catra takes a deep breath, looks straight into the camera, and sends a wish to the stars.

\--

There’s a mistletoe hanging on an empty booth located just off the main stage, at the tail end of a long row of wooden stalls.

Catra can see it from her stall, the booth lingering in the periphery of her vision even when she’s not looking at it directly. The booth itself has been decorated to resemble a forest, complete with garlands and fake snow and strikingly realistic figures of deer and birds. It gives couples a perfect opportunity to snap a picture against a pretty backdrop while they’re wandering around the market or shopping for Christmas gifts for family members and friends. Catra can’t stop rolling her eyes at the cheesy displays of affection she’s forced to witness every day, the posing and preening and fakeness of it all. If she wasn’t working here, she would probably either pull elaborate pranks on everyone stopping by at the booth or hiss at them in passing, depending on her mood on that particular day.

“Mistletoes are lame,” she says to Adora one Sunday afternoon, leaning over the counter while Adora stands in front of the stall, nursing a cup of mulled wine. “It’s such a flimsy excuse to kiss someone.”

Adora raises her eyebrows at her. “Someone’s in a good mood today, huh?”

“You’d be annoyed, too, if you had to look at the stupid booth all day.”

“I don’t know,” Adora says and takes a sip of her drink. “I think it’s a cute idea, and many people seem to like it.”

Catra snorts, rolls her eyes for what feels like the hundredth time today. “Yeah, right.”

“Come on, Catra,” Adora says. “Don’t be such a Grinch. If your boyfriend? Girlfriend? Wanted to kiss you under a mistletoe, would you say no?” 

There’s a funny lilt in her voice when she says _girlfriend_ , like she’s trying so hard to sound casual that it comes off as anything but, and Catra knows how dangerous false hope is, doesn’t want to read too much into it, but, but-- 

“I don’t have a partner,” she says, cheeks heating up at the revelation. “Would _you_ kiss yours, if they asked you to?”

It’s a little embarrassing, but she hasn’t even thought about the possibility of Adora being in a relationship before this moment. But the idea has been planted in her mind now, and her heart is already beating faster in her chest, worry fluttering around in her stomach. She will never have a chance to date Adora, she’s one hundred percent sure of that, but she would be lying if she said there wasn’t a tiny spark of hope inside of her, something small and fragile and precious--

Adora shakes her head. “Don’t have a partner, either. I think I probably would, though, if I had one.” 

Catra makes a conscious effort to not look too pleased. “Seriously, Adora?”

“Yeah, why not? It’d be a nice memory _if_ I had someone to share it with.”

“Right. I guess there aren’t a lot of suitable candidates in Bright Moon. Small town and everything.”

“That’s what I used to think, too,” Adora says. “But these days, I feel like things are a little different.”

She takes another sip of her drink, eyes flickering to Catra over the rim of her cup. Catra looks away, her face heating up. She tucks her chin deeper into her scarf and repeats the words in her head: _she doesn’t mean what you think she does, she doesn’t mean what you think she does, she doesn’t mean what you think she does--_

“How is it different?” she manages to get out, voice only slightly breathless.

“I don’t know.” Adora’s cheeks have taken on a reddish color, and Catra has a feeling it’s not just from the biting cold. “Guess I’m just feeling more optimistic than usual, that’s all.”

Catra gives an awkward hum and distracts herself by fiddling with a stack of napkins on the counter. It’s a nervous habit, but she can’t help it; there’s something about Adora that makes her nervous sometimes, and she knows exactly what it is, even if she would never say it out loud. 

“Right,” Adora says and gulps down the rest of her drink. “I should get back to work. See you later.”

“See you,” Catra says, but Adora’s already gone, swallowed up by the crowd. Catra picks up the empty cup she’s left behind and sighs, the sound muffled by the wind and the music and the never-ending chatter. If there’s anything she has learned over the last couple of weeks, it’s that life has an odd way of going in circles, and there is nothing she can do about it. 

She can’t afford to have feelings, not here, not now. If everything goes well, she’ll be gone by the time January rolls around. And even if things don’t go the way she hopes they will, she’s not going to stay in Bright Moon. There is no way this story will ever have a happy ending.

(At this point, only a Christmas miracle could make her dreams come true.)

\--

When she’s sure Adora has left, Catra climbs onto the merry-go-round, sits sideways on one of the wooden horses, and looks over the snow-covered roofs of the stalls spread out in front of her.

It’s amazing how much of a difference only a few hours can make. Earlier today, the place was teeming with activity, a blur of faces and colors and scents, a cacophony of Christmas carols and endless chatter. The merry-go-round was in constant motion, too, only stopping to take on new passengers. Now, everything is quiet and still, the town asleep under a thick blanket of snow. If Catra closed her eyes, she might fall asleep right then and there, too, slumped against the horse’s neck, one arm wrapped around the pole.

“Catra?” a voice somewhere behind her says. “Why are you still here? I thought you went home.”

Suddenly, she’s wide awake, every muscle in her body tense, the hairs on her neck standing up. She doesn’t react at first, convinced she’s hearing things, but deep down, she knows she’s not. She’s just afraid of facing Adora, because there’s no way she’s getting out of this without telling the truth, the one she’s kept secret for so many years, but she does it anyway, their eyes meeting under the soft lights. 

“Why are _you_ still here?” Catra asks Adora, desperate to turn the conversation away from herself.

“I left my phone in the break room,” Adora says. 

“Oh.” Catra looks away from Adora, her mind scrambling to come up with an explanation of her own. “I, um, thought I’d hang around for a while before going home.”

Adora slips her hands into her pockets, breath forming frosty puffs in the cold night air. Catra swings her legs back and forth, hoping the easy movement would calm her nerves. It doesn’t.

“Catra,” Adora says, voice quiet and soft. “What’s wrong? Why don’t you want to go home?”

Catra looks down at her feet. “It doesn’t matter.”

“Of course it does.”

Adora climbs onto a horse on the merry-go-round, sitting sideways on it, her shoulder pressed against the pole. Somehow, she always knows the right thing to do. She’s not looking at Catra, not confronting her, not demanding her to speak. She’s _with_ her, breathing in the same air, taking in the same fairytale-like scenery. The silence stretches on between them, long but not as uncomfortable as Catra had expected. 

Eventually, she heaves a sigh. There’s no point in delaying the inevitable.

“You want to know the reason I moved away from Bright Moon to Salineas?” 

Adora’s eyes flicker to her, then away.

“It was getting difficult to live with my mother,” Catra says. “She was -- is emotionally abusive towards me. It was just her and me back then, so I had nobody to protect me, and I was too young to protect myself. And -- and I was nearing my breaking point.”

Adora sits up straighter. Her head whips toward Catra. “Aren’t you staying with her right now? Do you feel unsafe at home?”

“She has never been physically violent with me.”

“That doesn’t mean you can’t feel unsafe when you’re with her.”

“I know.” Catra takes a deep breath. “I can deal with it. I just try to ignore her as much as I can. It’s not easy, but I’m better at it now than when I was younger.”

“If you feel like you can’t take it anymore, you can always just tell me, okay?” Adora says. “We can -- we can come up with something, together.”

“Okay,” Catra says. “Thanks, Adora.“ 

“No need to thank me. I just want to help.” 

Catra swallows down the lump that has suddenly appeared in her throat. The night is cold, the words heavy on her mind, but there’s a warmth in her chest now, like a flickering flame in the darkness. She wants to cup her hands around it to keep it from going off. 

“So,” Adora says. She’s clearly cautious, the words hesitant as they fall off her tongue. “Did you tell someone what was going on at home?”

“I don’t remember how it happened, exactly,” Catra says. “I guess a teacher found out or something. They reached out to my grandma, who agreed to take me in.”

“Was she aware of how your mom treated you?”

“She always knew my mother was harsh with me and resented her for it, but she wasn’t aware of how bad things were at the time, because she lived far away.”

“Wow,” Adora says. “I had no idea.”

“It was really sudden, the way it happened. A few days after they found out, I’d already moved in with Grandma. That’s why I was never able to say goodbye to anyone here. Not that I had many friends at school or anything like that.”

“I remember walking into the classroom one day and being really confused because you weren’t there,” Adora says. “I had no way of contacting you, and even the teachers wouldn’t tell me what was going on.”

“Really?” Catra doesn’t know what to think about this revelation. “Now I feel bad.”

“Don’t. It wasn’t your fault. I assume things got better after you left?”

“My grandma is nothing like my mother,” Catra says. “She made sure I was able to have a normal childhood. I always felt more at home with her than with my mother.”

She falls silent, unsure of how to go on.

“My grandma -- she hasn’t been well lately,” Catra continues. “She’s in the hospital right now. Has been for a while, actually.”

Adora’s lips are pressed in a thin line. “I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“I was supposed to take care of everything while she’s in the hospital, but I was struggling.” Catra can hear the anger, the bitterness in her own voice. “I’d only managed to find a part-time job after graduating from high school, and it was becoming more difficult to pay the rent and the bills while she was gone. We had to move out.”

“That sucks.” Adora is quiet for a moment, staring off at something in the distance. “So you had to come back here?”

“I really didn’t want to, but I had no other option.”

Adora looks down at the ground. 

“I know exactly what you’re going through,” she says. There’s a slight waver in her voice; if Catra wasn’t paying attention, she would have missed it. “It took me a long time to figure it out, but I’ve come to realize my mom is abusive towards me, too.”

“Really?” Catra searches the corners of her mind, trying to conjure up a picture of Adora’s mother. She remembers her as a quiet, intimidating woman, a single mother to her only child, much like Catra’s own. She only went to Adora’s house a few times before moving away, and more often than not, her mother wasn’t even there. Ten years later, it’s clear to see why they preferred to hang out at school after hours or spend time outside in the woods; neither of them wanted to go back home to their mothers, the people who were supposed to take care of them but never did. “Do _you_ feel safe at home?”

“It’s complicated,” Adora says. “My mom -- she’s overbearing. She always had big plans for me, and she’d try everything from cajoling to threatening to make me do what she wanted. It might have worked when I was growing up, but these days, I just don’t let her affect me like she used to. It’s definitely not easy, but -- I don’t know. It’s like I’ve finally realized who I am and what I want, so she doesn’t have as much power over me anymore.”

“Can you move out, find your own place?”

“I wish I could,” Adora says, sighing. “And I tried to. I applied to a few schools across the country but didn’t get in any of them. You can probably guess what happened. My mom didn’t take it well.”

“No,” Catra says. “Don’t tell me--”

“I mean, she’s not physically abusive, but I try to stay away from home as much as I can. I’ve been looking to rent an apartment in Bright Moon for a while now, but it’s difficult to find one here, let alone a full-time job that pays the bills. I’ll apply to more schools next year, but until then, I’ll probably have to stay with her.”

The silence is heavier this time. Catra doesn’t know what to say, except that she’s sorry. She knows all too well what it’s like to be stuck in a place she doesn’t want to be, the suffocating reality of it, and it breaks her heart that Adora’s going through the same thing, that she has it even worse than Catra does, because she never had the option of moving somewhere else. Twenty years is a long time, and there’s a spark of anger flaring up in her now, the unfairness of it all almost unbearable--

“I should go get my phone,” Adora says. “You want to come with me? We could walk around for a while before leaving, if that’s okay.”

“Sure.” 

They slide down onto the ground, snow crunching under their boots. Catra shoves her gloved hands in her pockets and braces herself against the wind. Thirty more minutes, she tells herself. Thirty more minutes in this safe little bubble they’ve created for themselves, and then she’s ready to go home.


	3. Chapter 3

The day is milder than a winter day in Bright Moon has any right to be. Catra has grown accustomed to the sting of cold on her cheeks, but today, she’s sweating inside her coat. Business is slower than usual, too, the visitors less likely to buy hot drinks to warm up their hands, so she spends her time cleaning and simply sitting at the counter, bored out of her mind. It’s even worse than being busy all the time, but at least she can people-watch while she waits for customers to appear, which in her case mostly means staring longingly at Adora, something that’s slowly becoming her favorite pastime. 

Adora, on the other hand, seems to be having a busy day. She spends the afternoon unloading a truckload of trees delivered from a nearby farm, occasionally pausing to wipe sweat off her forehead with the back of her hand, to brush needles from her sleeves onto the snowy ground. Catra gets up to make herself a cup of tea, and when she sits back down at the counter, she almost spills her drink, because -- because Adora has peeled off her coat and wrapped it around her waist, and she looks _amazing_. Underneath, she’s wearing a simple white T-shirt, form-fitting and flattering, the fabric hugging her body. She’s more muscular than Catra had expected, her arms thick and toned. Catra buries her face in her phone and makes a point not to stare.

In the afternoon, an elementary school children’s choir takes the stage, and the chatter dies down as people gather around to hear them sing. Catra leans over the counter and cranes her neck to get a better view of the stage. There are about thirty kids in total, two rows of angelic faces and nervously shuffling feet. They can certainly carry a tune. The first song is an old classic, and Catra allows herself to get lost in the melody, soothed by the sweet voices of the choir, enjoying the rare moment of peace. 

“Pretty cute, right?” Adora says, having appeared seemingly out of nowhere. “Can I get a cup of coffee? I need something to warm me up.”

“Why don’t you put on your coat, then?” Catra says, and immediately regrets it, because it’s the last thing she wants.

“Ha,” Adora says, but she makes no effort to do this. Catra swallows the remaining words on her tongue and thanks the stars for her luck.

It’s a welcome distraction, preparing the drink for Adora, even though her heart is still fluttering in her chest. Catra allows herself a sigh, the sound drowned out by the roar of the coffee machine. If this is what having a crush feels like, she’s glad she’s never really had feelings for anyone else. _Calm down_ , she tells herself, repeating the words over and over in her mind, but it’s useless; the heart does whatever it wants, defying all the rules, exposing a truth that can’t be escaped. 

Catra hands the coffee to Adora and looks back at the choir. “Didn’t we do that, too, when we were kids?” 

“I think we did. Third or fourth grade, maybe?”

“I think it was a couple of years before I moved away. I still remember that day. I didn’t like singing at all, and I was really nervous about going up on stage.”

“We definitely weren’t anywhere near as good as these kids,” Adora says.

Catra shakes her head.

“Definitely not.”

Adora brings the steaming cup close to her face, eyes fluttering shut as she breathes in the scent. A few strands of hair have fallen from her ponytail to frame her face. Catra has to fight off the urge to reach over the counter and brush them behind Adora’s ear. She’s always holding back, always trying to talk herself out of things she wants to do. But if she’s not careful, she might end up doing something that can’t be undone.

Catra heaves another sigh. Somewhere in the background, a chorus of young voices sounds out in unison, as pure as the first snow on a winter morning.

“Some things never seem to change around here.”

“Yeah,” Adora says and looks at Catra over the rim of the cup. “Some things never change.”

\--

“Wait here,” Catra says before turning her back to Adora and walking over to her stall, hands in her pockets.

It’s ten past ten in the evening, a long day finally coming to an end. The market is spotless, the stalls all closed for the night, the trash cans empty. Catra is ready to go home and fall right into bed, but there’s no way she’d want to miss the post-work hangout with Adora, the bit where they lounge around with warm drinks and talk about anything and everything. They’ve only been doing this for a few days now, ever since the conversation about their mothers, but it has quickly become her favorite part of the day. 

She kicks the door shut with the heel of her boot and goes back to the now-deserted stage, a cup of mulled wine in one hand and a hot chocolate in another. Adora sits perched on the edge of the stage, staring at the big Christmas tree in front of her. She looks so pretty like this, surrounded by pristine white snow, bathed in the soft glow of the lights, and Catra’s heart does whatever it wants again, loud and restless and impossibly out of control.

“Here,” she says, handing the hot chocolate to Adora.

“You know, I’m starting to think you can read minds or something,” Adora says, cradling the cup in her hands. ”How else could you always know exactly what I want?” 

“It’s not that difficult to figure out,” Catra says, flopping down next to her. “You like coffee, hot chocolate, and mulled wine, but you don’t like to drink the same thing two times in a row, so I just rotate them.”

“But you still remember what I had the last time. You’d be a good barista, if you ever wanted to become one.”

Catra snorts, shakes her head. “No way. I’d hate that.”

(What she wants to say is, _I would only be a good barista for one person, and that person is you_. But she can’t, so she takes a sip of her mulled wine instead, comforted by its warmth.)

Adora looks up from her drink and lets out a tired laugh. 

“What is it with us, this stage, and hot beverages?”

“You tell me,” Catra says. “This town does weird things to me. Ever since I came back here, I feel like I’ve been trapped in a time loop.”

“Oh, really?”

“Uh-huh. I mean, this market is just like I remember it from my childhood, down to the decorations and everything. And I’m not just talking about this place. It’s the whole town. The people, the buildings, everything.”

Adora swings her leg back and forth, kicking at the snow with the toe of her boot.

“I know what you mean,” she says. “Coming here always makes me feel weirdly nostalgic, but this year, I’ve been thinking about my childhood a lot more than usual. I think it’s because of you, actually.”

Catra looks up at her, blinking in surprise. “Me?”

“Yeah. There’s something about you that makes this place feel as magical as it did when I was a kid.”

Catra doesn’t know if it’s the tenderness in Adora’s voice, or the fact that she used the word _magical_ to describe the memories she had here with Catra all those years ago, but suddenly, there’s a lump in her throat, an unnamed emotion welling up in her chest. She can feel her throat bob as she swallows, but the weight in her heart doesn’t move. 

“It’s so -- ridiculous,” Catra says, but there’s no bite in her tone, only fond amusement. “Here I am, sitting in the same place, holding the same drink, looking at the same view I did when we were ten years old. Nothing has changed. Not even the way -- the way I feel about you.”

She can’t bring herself to look at Adora, but she can feel Adora’s eyes on her, the weight of her stare almost too much to bear. 

“What do you mean?” Adora says it like she would say, _do you mean what I think you mean?_

Catra’s heart is pounding in her chest now, loud in her ears. It was not an accident, letting that piece of information slip. She’s testing the waters, gauging Adora’s reaction. She’s teetering on a very fine line, careful not to lean too far in either direction, except she’s already losing her balance, and there’s no way to stop herself from falling. 

“I always liked you back then,” she says with a calmness she does not feel. “You were kind to me even when the others weren’t. But that moment -- that moment when you bought me hot chocolate and we sat together in this same spot, I realized this is different.”

She sets her cup down next to her, freeing her right hand. Her left one rests on the ledge, inches away from Adora’s. If she leaned slightly to the left, her shoulder would bump against Adora’s, too, but she doesn’t move, afraid of breaking the magic of the moment. She’s tense like a wound-up spring, breath stuck in the back of her throat, eyes scanning Adora’s for any sign of hesitation.

“How is it different?” Adora asks, voice low and a little breathy. She’s not oblivious, not clueless. She’s someone who refuses to believe what they’re hearing, refuses to believe it to protect themselves from being let down.

Catra looks down at her lap and shakes her head, the beginnings of a smile tugging at her lips. _I know you know exactly how it’s different_ , she wants to say. But it doesn’t matter, because then she’s looking up at Adora again, and Adora is leaning closer, eyes fluttering down to Catra’s lips, and Catra is cupping Adora’s face with gloved hands and leaning closer, too, their mouths meeting in the middle. 

It’s a slow, tentative kiss, but Catra feels it in every part of her body, every nerve-ending attuned to Adora, the touch of her lips. When she pulls away, she’s more breathless than she has any reason to be, heart beating like a drum in her chest.

“Does this answer your question?” she asks, murmuring this.

Adora hums in agreement. Her eyes linger on Catra’s lips. It takes every ounce of self-control not to lean in for another kiss, so Catra lets go of her before she can change her mind.

“I didn’t understand it at the time, but I always had this overwhelming feeling of wanting to be with you,” Adora says. 

Catra’s heart is still racing in her chest. She wants to inhale, but she feels like she has forgotten how to breathe. 

“Like a tug in your heart?”

“Yeah. I guess I eventually forgot about it when you moved away, and when that memory surfaced again a few years later, I just -- buried it deep inside me until I couldn’t ignore it any longer.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“It’s okay,” Adora says. “I think I’ve got it figured out by now.”

Somehow, they have inched closer to each other again, Catra’s whole body turned towards Adora, Adora angling hers in Catra’s direction. It’s so easy to lean forward now, to close her eyes, to touch her forehead against Adora’s. Their hands find each other, palms pressed together, Adora’s thumbs rubbing soothing circles on the backs of Catra’s hands. Adora’s breath smells like chocolate, warm and sweet and as lovely as the rest of her.

“I still can’t believe you’re here,” Adora says. “Like some kind of really good dream.”

“I still can’t believe you remember me,” Catra says.

Adora laughs a little, breath brushing against Catra’s face. “How could I not remember you?”

“I always thought I was the only one who felt this way.” Catra heaves a sigh, trying to dislodge the weight that has settled on her chest. “I’m not used to mattering to people.”

“But you do,” Adora says without a flicker of hesitation. “You’ve made a positive impact on more people’s lives than you even realize.”

Catra has to swallow hard to keep tears from forming in her eyes. She doesn’t know what she has done to deserve someone like Adora. She was sure coming back to Bright Moon would be a mistake, a disaster waiting to happen, but ever since she first set foot on the Christmas market, good things have been happening to her, tiny everyday miracles. Catra doesn’t believe in magic, but maybe she should, because it’s undeniable: there _is_ something special about this place, about the twinkling lights and the powdery white snow and the ubiquitous scent of cinnamon and sugar and cocoa. She might grumble about the customers and the crowds and the cheesy Christmas songs she must have heard a thousand times by now, but she already knows she’s going to miss it all, even the less pleasant parts. 

Adora gives Catra’s hands a squeeze and pulls away, taking her warmth with her. Catra breathes in a gulp of fresh air and opens her eyes. If it weren’t so cold, she might think she was still dreaming, the moment almost too perfect to be real. But it is real, and no one’s ever going to take it away from her.

Adora stands up and takes Catra’s hand, pulls her onto her feet.

“Do you still think mistletoes are lame?” There is a smirk on her face now, charming and dangerous. “You said--”

“I know what I said.” Catra rearranges her features into a half-hearted frown, but she’s still reeling from everything that just happened, way too overwhelmed to think about pretending to be something she’s not. “But I’m -- not opposed to changing my mind.”

And then she doesn’t have to hold back anymore, because Adora is pulling her towards the booth, and she’s following her willingly, eagerly, and her heart is singing with joy, and it feels like she’s floating instead of walking, and it’s all even better than she could have ever imagined.

\--

It’s a perfectly normal Thursday, cold and cloudy, and they can’t keep their eyes off of each other. It goes on the whole afternoon, the elaborate exchange of longing looks and secret smiles, an intricate game only they know the rules to. Catra wants to talk to Adora, wants to cup her face in her hands and brush her fingers over her cheeks and kiss her like she did the day before, but Adora’s too busy to leave her usual spot. This doesn’t stop them from mouthing conversations to each other, which is a lot more fun than Catra had expected.

“Come here,” she mouths at Adora at one point, unable to wait any longer. 

“Soon, okay?” Adora mouths back at her, giving her a reassuring smile.

Catra shakes her head. “Now. Ditch the customers.”

Adora furrows her brow; Catra can practically see the gears turning in her head. When she finally gets it, she actually laughs a little, shaking her head back at her.

“Wish I could,” she mouths and turns away from Catra, ending the conversation.

Later in the afternoon, there’s a lull between customers, and then, finally, Adora’s coming over, waving at Glimmer who’s crouching on the ground in front of her stall, writing on a chalkboard sign. 

“Hey,” she says casually as she stops in front of Catra’s stall, shoving her hands into her pockets.

Catra puts her elbows on the counter, leans in as close to her as she can. If she were a cat, she would be purring by now, tail flicking in anticipation and contentment. “Hey.” 

Glimmer scrambles to her feet, eyes narrowing at them. “What’s going on?”

Adora blinks, arranges her features into a look of innocent confusion. “What?”

“There’s something going on between you two. You’ve had a dopey smile on your face all day, Adora.”

“Have I?”

Glimmer’s eyes slide over to Catra. “And you -- you probably think you’re better at hiding it, and maybe you are, but you look _way_ happier than you usually do, like you can barely contain yourself.”

Catra can’t help but flinch in terror. 

“What the hell are you talking about?” she says, hissing, unable to come up with a better response.

Glimmer raises her hands. “Look. You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to. It’s none of my business, obviously. But whatever it is, I’m happy for you.”

Before either of them can say anything, she spins around, disappears into her stall. 

“Are you okay with telling her?” Adora asks under her breath.

“Telling her what?”

“That we’re together,” Adora says, and then she wrinkles her brow. “Wait. Are we?”

Catra’s heart is going a hundred miles an hour. “Do you want us to be together?”

“Do _you_?”

Catra never thought this moment would come, and now that it’s here, she allows herself to enjoy it, reveling in the warmth that floods her body, the burst of happiness in her heart. The answer is an obvious one. “Yeah. I do.”

“Good,” Adora says, and her smile is wide and beautiful and real. “Because I do, too.”

Catra doesn’t know how long they stand there, talking about nothing in particular and enjoying each other’s company, but suddenly there’s a knock on the door, and a second later, Glimmer barges in, heading straight to the coffee machine.

“Sorry,” Glimmer says. “Did I interrupt something?” 

“No,” Adora says. “We were just talking.”

“Good. I am in _desperate_ need of coffee.”

Adora raises an eyebrow at her. “Rough day?”

Glimmer sighs. “You don’t even want to know.”

She shoves a cup under the coffee machine, punches a button, and waits. The machine gurgles into life, makes a weird growling sound. Nothing comes out. Glimmer scoffs at the machine and paces around it in tight-lipped frustration, as if trying to intimidate it into working properly.

Catra spins around to face her, folds her arms on her chest, and doesn’t even try to keep the smirk off her face.

“Sorry,” she says in a voice that suggests she’s not sorry at all. “My _girlfriend_ drank the last of the coffee. I haven’t had time to fill up the tank yet.”

Glimmer lets out an exasperated sigh.

“Fine,” she says. “I’ll take tea instead.”

She places her cup under a different tap, drumming her foot against the floor as she waits for the cup to fill with hot water. Then, she tenses and whips her head back to them, her eyes narrowing again.

“Wait,” she says, looking back and forth between them.

Catra leans back against the wall, basking in Glimmer’s reaction, the way the realization slowly dawns on her. She’s thoroughly enjoying this situation; her cheeks ache from all the smirking. Adora hides her own smile behind her cup, but she’s beaming, too, happiness radiating from her like sunshine.

“Yeah,” Adora says, looking down at her drink. 

Glimmer picks up her cup. “Oh, I see. You’re busy flirting with your _girlfriend_ instead of doing your job, the one you get paid to do. The customer service here sucks.” 

“Nah,” Catra says. “Say that to my _girlfriend_ , who’s also one of my regular customers.”

“Yeah, you’re wrong, Glimmer,” Adora says. “This place is great. Not only is the coffee delicious, but the girl running the stall is also cute as hell.”

“Oh, come on,” Glimmer says, but her lips are twitching, too, eyes brimming with delight. “You two are the worst.”

“And yet you still hang out with us,” Adora says.

“And drink all the coffee without even paying for it,” Catra continues.

“Okay, okay.” Glimmer drops a tea bag into the cup, grabs a packet of sugar from a bowl on the side table. “I’m going. And I won’t be coming back!”

“You better keep your word, Sparkles,” Catra says.

Glimmer hides her smile by turning her back to them and storming out, but Catra could swear she can hear her mutter _I knew it_ before the door swings shut behind her. 

Adora puts an empty cup on the counter.

“Just wait,” she says. “She’ll be back in a moment, with a plate full of cinnamon rolls.”

“Really?”

“Yep.”

Catra glances around. There are no customers nearby; no one’s paying attention to them. And then she’s leaning over the counter and putting her hands on Adora’s cheeks and pulling her into a kiss, Adora’s hands finding her forearms, her laughter muffled by Catra’s lips on hers. 

(This time, she’s not holding back.)


	4. Chapter 4

It’s the day before Christmas Eve, the second-to-last day the Christmas market is open, and Catra is not in a festive mood at all. The place is as busy as ever, filled with people buying last-minute gifts for family members and friends, kids and teenagers enjoying their first day of Christmas break. Catra doesn’t mind having a lot to do; at least it helps keep her mind off the holidays looming ahead, the very thing she’s been worried about ever since she came back to Bright Moon.

One more day of this, and then what? Catra dreads it, the idea of having to spend several days at home with Mother, tolerating her sardonic comments and subtle ways of manipulation. Outside, the silence will be deeper than ever, the streets completely devoid of people. There will be nowhere else to go, nothing to distract her from her misery. When she still lived with Grandma, she was often counting down the days to Christmas break, not because she particularly liked the festive season but because it meant she didn’t have to go to school for two whole weeks. Now, she feels like she’s eight years old again, anxiety fluttering in her stomach while everyone else looks forward to Christmas and the long, slow days leading up to the New Year.

It’s the main reason she finds herself sneaking into Glimmer’s stall late in the afternoon, right before the evening crowd starts to arrive. Glimmer’s in the middle of serving a customer, and Catra waits for her to be done before kicking the door shut with the heel of her boot. Glimmer turns around to face her, and even if she’s surprised to see her, she doesn’t let it show.

“Having a bad day?”

“How did you guess?” Catra grumbles, not in the mood for pleasantries. 

Glimmer shrugs. “Just a hunch.”

Catra cups her elbows with her hands, hugs her arms to her chest. “Hey, do you have cinnamon rolls?”

“Of course I do.” Glimmer moves around the stall with the ease of someone familiar with her surroundings, piling pastries on a disposable plate. “Here. Don’t worry about having to pay for it. The gingerbread cookies are on the house.” 

“Thanks,” Catra says, feeling bad about her less-than-friendly attitude as she accepts the plate from Glimmer. 

The door swings open again, and Bow pokes his head in.

“Hi, guys,” he says, stepping inside with Adora in tow. “How’s it going?”

“Is this a thing you’re all doing now?” Glimmer asks, trying to sound exasperated even though she’s clearly not. “Barging in without being invited?”

“Well, considering this might be the last time we’re all in the same place at the same time, I’d say yes,” Bow says. 

Glimmer lets out a defeated sigh. “You’re right, you’re right.”

The stall is too small for four people, but somehow, they make it work, with Catra sitting on the edge of the side table, Glimmer leaning back against the counter, and Adora and Bow standing beside a stack of crates piled in one corner. This is another thing she’ll miss, these precious little moments when they’re all together, the much-needed breaks in the middle of busy days. 

Catra and Adora share a quick smile, their eyes lingering on each other. Adora looks tired, the lines on her face deeper and the set of her shoulders tenser than usual. It doesn’t take much for Catra to figure out that Adora’s been battling with her own thoughts, the anxiety gnawing away at her, too, preventing her from focusing on her work. It makes Catra feel even worse than she already does.

Adora glances down at the plate in Catra’s hand. “Glimmer, can I get one of those cinnamon rolls, too?”

“You look like you need more than just one.” Glimmer springs into action right away, handing two pastries to Adora. “Today’s really not a good day for anyone, huh.”

Adora sighs. “You know how it is around this time of year, with the market closing and everything.”

Glimmer’s lips are pursed in a thin line. She’s looking at Adora with an expression of empathy and concern, hovering around her like a worried mother hen. Even Bow is unusually quiet, his eyes on the floor, jaw set in a rigid line. It’s obvious that they know what Adora’s talking about, that they feel her pain as if it was their own. The thought makes Catra’s heart ache.

“This sucks,” she says, mumbling out the words. “ _Everything_ sucks.”

Glimmer gives her a sideways glance. “Do you guys want to talk about it?”

“It’s fine,” Catra says. “I’m just -- not really looking forward to spending the holidays at home, either.”

“I’m sorry you’re going through a hard time,” Glimmer says. 

“Is there anything we can do for you guys?” Bow asks.

Adora shakes her head. “I don’t think so.”

Catra trails a finger along the edge of her plate. “I don’t know about Adora, but I’ll get through it, somehow. I’ve done it before and I’ll do it again if I have to.”

“Me too,” Adora says. “It’s not like I’m not used to it or anything.”

There’s a heavy silence, interrupted only by the murmur of the crowd. Then, Adora lets out a strained laugh.

“Look at us,” she says. “So much for the happiest time of the year, right?” 

“It’s a _complicated_ time of the year,” Glimmer says.

“Let’s talk about something else,” Adora says. She takes a bite of her cinnamon roll, chewing thoughtfully. “How are you going to spend Christmas, Bow? The same as usual?”

“Yeah. It’s just going to be me and my family.”

“ _Just_ you and your family? The fifteen of you?”

“Right.” Bow looks puzzled, as if he doesn’t understand what’s so weird about this. “That’s how it’s always been. I can’t imagine spending Christmas any other way.”

Adora stuffs the rest of the cinnamon roll into her mouth. “Any chance you might be able to adopt us for the holidays?”

“I wish I could, but we already have a full house, with everyone being home for Christmas and everything.”

Catra can’t even begin to imagine spending the holidays with fourteen other people, a big but close-knit family where everyone loves and respects each other. A flame of jealousy flares up in her, the burn of it so painful that she has to put her plate down, her appetite suddenly gone.

“We should ditch our stupid moms and spend Christmas together,” she says, her eyes meeting Adora’s.

“You know what?” Adora says. “We really should. But where would we even go? I can’t afford to spend the holidays in some overpriced hotel room.”

“My family has a lake house not far from where,” Glimmer says. “You could always go there, if you don’t want to stay at home.”

Catra and Adora look at each other, then back at Glimmer.

“Thanks for the offer, but we really can’t pay much for the accommodation,” Adora says.

Glimmer rolls her eyes at her.

“You don’t have to pay for it,” she says. “My family usually spends Christmas at the lake house, but this year, we’re going over to my aunt’s place. My mom doesn’t like leaving the house empty for longer than a few weeks at a time, so you’d be doing us a favor, really.”

Catra shakes her head, ignores the flutter of hope in her chest. She’s used to disappointments. Life is never this easy, never this uncomplicated. Things like this don’t happen to her. There is no way they could possibly--

“Sorry,” she says. “We can’t. It’s too--”

“Why not, Catra?” Glimmer asks. “What’s stopping you?”

Catra frowns, trying to come up with something, anything, but she can’t, not when this is something she actually wants. Glimmer folds her arms on her chest, a sigh spilling from her lips.

“Look,” she says. “Tomorrow, I’m going to take the keys with me to work. You can take them or you can leave them, but then you’d also leave a perfectly nice house empty for the holidays. So, do you want to stop acting modest and take the offer, or would you rather be stubborn and spend Christmas with people you don’t like in a place you don’t want to be?”

Catra and Adora glance at each other. 

“I mean, if you really don’t mind--” Adora begins.

“We don’t,” Glimmer says firmly. 

“--then I guess we could--”

“Great!” Glimmer beams at them. “It’s a really nice house. Stay as long as you’d like!” 

Catra blinks, dazed but not at all displeased with this sudden turn of events. Tomorrow morning, she’ll wake up early and pack her bags as quietly as possible, sneak out of the house while Mother’s still asleep. If everything goes well, Catra might not have to go back to Mother’s house at all before leaving Bright Moon for good. She knows she will not be missed. If anything, Mother will be delighted she’s not coming back home on Christmas Eve, happy to get rid of the daughter she never wanted or loved, and Catra will be just as happy to be gone. Spending Christmas together with Adora is something she hadn’t even considered before today, but now that it’s happening, she can’t stop thinking about it, can’t stop smiling, and there’s excitement prickling in her stomach, and it feels like things are finally, finally starting to fall into place.

(This is nothing short of a Christmas miracle.)

\--

On Christmas Eve, the market closes in the early afternoon. The morning is fairly busy, but not in an overwhelming way, most people content with just wandering around and taking in the festive ambience before heading home to celebrate Christmas. Catra lingers at the counter and lets her eyes sweep over the picture-book-like scenery. In a few days, this place will not exist anymore, the stalls and the decorations and the lights all gone, stored away for the next year. A special little world, sealed off from everything outside of it, never to be replicated the same way ever again. Catra breathes out a wistful sigh and makes herself one last cup of hot chocolate. 

Adora shows up at her stall just as the last visitors are walking out.

“Don’t start cleaning up,” she says. “We’re not done yet.”

Catra furrows her brow at her. “What are you talking about?”

“Come over, and I’ll show you,” Adora says. “Let’s just say that this is one of my favorite things about working here.”

Even though the Christmas market has officially closed for the year, the stalls are still open. It doesn’t take long for Catra to figure out what’s going on. It’s an exclusive sales event for people working here, a chance for vendors and staff members to immerse themselves in the festive spirit and spend time with friends before everyone goes their separate ways for the holidays. Many vendors are reducing their prices to empty their stalls before packing up, and some are even giving away things for free, handing out candy canes and potato pancakes to anyone who happens to pass by. Catra and Adora make their way down the lane, taking advantage of discounts and good deals, accepting free food and gifts from fellow vendors. They’re treated to a turkey, a jar full of gingerbread cookies, and so many other things that Catra doesn’t even think they’ll be able to eat it all by themselves. Still, having too much food is better than having too little, especially if they’re going to spend the following days in a remote lake house, far away from everyone and everything.

They carry the purchases back to Catra’s stall, and then Adora’s taking her hand and pulling her in the direction of the Christmas tree park. 

“There’s no way we’re leaving without a tree,” she says. “Let’s go get ours.”

There’s a lone fir waiting for them at the back of the park, tucked away in the corner. Catra doesn’t know much about the different types of Christmas trees, but she likes this one, the foliage a beautiful shade of dark green, the needles thick but soft to the touch. 

“What do you think?” Adora asks. She looks at Catra with a smile on her face, hands resting on her hips.

“I think it’s perfect for us,” Catra says.

Before leaving, they stop by at Glimmer’s stall to pick up the keys to the lake house. Bow’s there, too, the two of them snacking on the last batch of cinnamon rolls and cleaning up.

“Thanks again for letting us stay at your house,” Adora says as she leans in to hug Glimmer. “It means a lot to us.”

“No need to thank me, really,” Glimmer says, voice muffled by Adora’s shoulder. “I’m just glad I can help you guys.”

Adora moves over to hug Bow, and the next thing Catra knows, Glimmer’s reaching over and pulling her closer and throwing her arms around her, too. Catra makes an embarrassing sound, something between a surprised gasp and a breathless grunt, then relaxes into it, wrapping her arms around Glimmer’s back.

“Thanks,” she murmurs into Glimmer’s ear. “You saved my Christmas.”

“Don’t get all soft on me now, Catra,” Glimmer says, voice gentle and low. “You and Adora deserve to be happy just as much as anyone else. You two take care of each other, okay?”

“Of course.” Catra buries her face in Glimmer’s shoulder, breathes in the familiar scent of sugar and flour and cinnamon. “Merry Christmas, Sparkles.”

“Merry Christmas, Catra.”

“We’ll see you guys next week, right?” Adora is saying to Bow.

“Yeah, sure!” Glimmer lets go of Catra and scoots closer to him. “How about we come over to the lake house on New Year’s Eve?”

“Oh, yeah, Best Friend Squad party!” Bow says, eyes shining with excitement. “It’ll be awesome.”

Adora gives Catra a sideways glance. “What do you think?”

Catra folds her arms on her chest, allows a smile to touch her lips. “I’m in, but only if there are fireworks and we stay up the whole night.”

“It’s a deal then,” Glimmer says. “Unless you’re dealing with a serious case of cabin fever and you’re desperate to get out of the house, that is.”

Adora shakes her head.

“Nah,” she says. “I don’t think that’s going to happen.”

There’s something odd about Glimmer and Bow, the way they stand so close to each other, their shoulders almost pressed together. Catra narrows her eyes at them, and when she realizes what’s going on, she almost laughs at herself for being so oblivious. Glimmer and Bow are holding hands, their fingers intertwined like it’s the most natural thing in the world. 

“Is there something you’d like to tell us?” Adora says, the corner of her mouth curling up into a smile.

“It’s kind of a long story,” Bow says, slightly flustered but unable to stop smiling.

“We’ll tell you all about it later,” Glimmer says. “But now, we should really get going, and I think you guys should, too, before it gets dark.”

People are leaving one by one, the stalls and the lanes mostly empty now, a handful of people still packing things up and saying goodbye to their friends. Catra cleans up her stall while Adora wrestles the tree onto the roof of her car and loads their purchases into the trunk, and then they’re ready to go, leaving the Christmas market behind. 

“Oh, wow,” Adora says as she climbs into the driver’s seat. “That’s a _lot_ of food. I was thinking we might have to stop at the grocery store before it closes for the day, but I think we have everything we need.”

“Everything we need? We’ll be eating leftovers well into the new year.”

Adora slams the car door shut, fumbling for her keys. Catra decides to take advantage of the lull in the conversation and pulls out her phone, sends a quick message to Mother.

_Don’t expect me home for Christmas_ , she writes. _I’m spending it with someone I actually enjoy spending time with._

Adora starts the car and reverses it out of the parking spot. Catra slips her phone back into her backpack and makes herself comfortable in the passenger seat. It’s already starting to get dark, the sky a beautiful shade of blue-gray. The radio is on, playing one of the few festive songs Catra’s not sick of hearing over and over again. The seat heaters are on, too, warmth seeping into her tired body, melting away any remaining tension in her muscles. Catra turns her head slightly to the right, looks out the frost-covered window, and wants to keep this moment in her memory forever.

Half an hour later, Adora pulls the car into the driveway of a house at the end of a mile-long, snow-covered gravel road. The porch light comes on, and Catra leans forward in her seat, her eyes growing wide when she realizes just how big the house is. 

“I knew Glimmer’s family was rich, but I didn’t know they were _that_ rich,” she says as they stomp up the stairs to the porch. The walls are made of polished wood, and on the right side of the door, there’s a row of floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking the frozen lake.

“They’re definitely well off,” Adora says. “This house is nicer than my house.”

Catra lets out a hollow laugh, thinking about her childhood home. “Mine, too.”

She’s timid at first, tip-toeing from room to room, unsure of what to do with herself. The house is beautiful on the inside, too, complete with sleek hardwood floors and spacious rooms. The family must have been here recently, because there are candles on tables and windowsills, garlands on banisters and doorways. Later on, they’ll light up the fireplace in the living room and put up the tree. It’ll be nice and cozy, the kind of Christmas she never had when she lived with Mother.

Adora’s already in the kitchen, starting dinner. 

“Where did you find potatoes?” Catra asks, peeking over her shoulder.

“The pantry,” Adora says. “Glimmer insisted we make use of it.”

Catra shakes her head. “I know she did, but I feel like we -- shouldn’t. This feels so weird.”

“I mean, we can always go to the grocery store and replace what’s missing.”

She’s right, of course. Catra sucks in a deep breath, makes a conscious effort to relax. It’s Christmas Eve, and she doesn’t have to think about work anymore, doesn’t have to think about Mother. If there’s ever a time to live in the moment, it’s right now.

They spend the evening cooking together, preparing dinner just for the two of them. Catra doesn’t particularly like cooking, but she likes this, the way they move around each other in the kitchen, opening drawers, finding chopping boards and saucepans. The turkey sits on the counter, waiting to be put in the oven; a large pot of potatoes boils on the stove. Adora slips out of the kitchen while Catra’s busy with the preparations, and when she walks into the living room a moment later, Adora’s in the process of putting up the tree, careful not to trip on the box of ornaments on the floor.

“Do you need a hand?”

“Not really,” Adora says. “But I wouldn’t mind if you helped me decorate the tree.”

When they finally sit down for dinner, the tree has been decorated and lit, and the house smells wonderful. It’s a feast for two people, the table laden with turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, and a variety of roasted vegetables. Catra dives in right away, too hungry to care about anything else, and she actually sighs when the food hits her tongue, because it tastes _great_. Even though she’s a relatively experienced cook, a byproduct of growing up with a neglectful mother and an aging grandmother, she doesn’t consider herself a particularly skilled one, especially when it comes to preparing a lot of food at once. This, however, is a success. Catra makes a conscious effort to slow down and takes her time eating, savoring every bite and Adora’s company. There’s no need to rush through this precious moment. 

After dinner, they retire to the living room, stomachs full and eyes heavy-lidded. Together, they collapse on the couch, sighing as they sink into the embrace of the plump cushions. Catra pulls a throw blanket over their bodies and snuggles up against Adora, presses her face into the crook of her neck. The fire crackles in the fireplace, painting the room in a warm glow. There’s a box of chocolates on the table, waiting to be eaten. Catra closes her eyes and thinks, _I could get used to this._

“Would you hate me if I put on some Christmas music?” Adora asks.

Catra blinks heavily, nuzzles her nose against the side of Adora’s neck. She’s quite possibly more comfortable than she has ever been in her life. 

“Yes, I would,” she says, and Adora laughs softly, shoulders bouncing. 

“Aw, really?” she says, voice filled with feigned sadness.

Catra smiles against Adora’s skin. “Yeah, really.”

Adora reaches over to pick up her phone from the coffee table, flicking her thumb over the screen.

“Let’s see what I can find,” she says. 

A gentle melody fills the room, lulling Catra into a languid state. She’s half-asleep, mind drifting between dream and reality, thoughts and worries slipping away. Adora is warm and soft and solid against her, a comforting presence. Five weeks of hard work, and this is how it ends. It’s a gift she wasn’t expecting, but now that she’s here, she can’t imagine wanting this day to end any other way. No stress, no complicated emotions, just _this_ feeling, this easy, tender happiness, the memory of it sealed in her heart forever.

(It’s magic in its simplest and purest form.)

\--

She keeps her eyes closed long after waking up, imagines she’s resting on a particularly fluffy cloud. The bed is big and warm and comfortable, and for once, she can stay in it for as long as she wants. Somewhere beside her, Adora breathes deeply and evenly, a gentle rhythm of inhales and exhales. Catra cracks open an eye and turns her head to the right. She can see the outline of Adora’s body in the darkness of the room, the blanket wrapped tightly around her, hair a mess on the pillow. Catra rolls over to face her and falls asleep with a smile on her face.

For the next few hours, she drifts in and out of sleep, blinking against the soft winter light whenever she’s awake, hugging the blankets closer to her body. The silence seems to stretch out into eternity, the trees and the snow and the white-painted walls of the guest bedroom cocooning them in a world of their own. Adora’s cheek is squished against the pillow, her eyelids fluttering just slightly. Catra closes her eyes once more, wants to stay in this moment for as long as she can.

The next time she opens her eyes, Adora is rolling onto her back, bleary-eyed and disoriented.

“I had such a weird dream,” she says, voice rough from sleep. “All the trees I was trying to sell were able to walk. They’d run away from me, and I’d try to catch them, but whenever I’d reach out to grab one, it would just slip out of my fingers.”

Catra snorts. “You’ve been working _way_ too much lately.”

Adora suppresses a yawn. “I know. It was kind of fun, though. Like we were playing tag or something.”

“You’re such a weirdo,” Catra says. “It’s Christmas Day. You shouldn’t be thinking about this stuff.”

“I don’t really mind,” Adora says. She turns to look at Catra, a mischievous smile on her lips. “Can I carry _you_ downstairs?”

Catra gives her shoulder a half-hearted push. “No, you can’t.”

“Aw, why not?”

“Why _do_ you want to carry me downstairs?”

“Because you’re like one of those trees,” Adora says. “Except you’re not running away from me.”

Catra can’t help it; she’s laughing now, the sound bubbling out before she can stop it.

“Seriously, what’s wrong with you?” she says, voice brimming with fondness. 

There’s a lazy smile on Adora’s face, her eyes still half-lidded from sleep. “I don’t know. Guess I say all kinds of weird things when I’m with someone I really, really like.”

Adora ends up giving her a piggyback ride downstairs, which Catra doesn’t really mind at all. She presses her cheek against Adora’s hair and clings to her as Adora navigates her way down the stairs, the steps creaking under her feet. The tree waits for them in the corner of the living room, baubles shining in the morning sun. Now that it’s light outside, they can see the surroundings of the house, the ground and the trees and the lake covered by a blanket of untouched snow. Later, they’ll go out for a walk, taking in the beautiful scenery and filling their lungs with fresh winter air, but for now, they’ll cozy up in the comfort of the house, basking in the slowness of one of the shortest days of the year. 

Adora doesn’t let her down until they’re in the kitchen. Catra finds her balance and walks over to turn on the coffee pot. She leans back against the counter and looks over to Adora, who has turned away from Catra and is raiding the fridge for something to eat. She’s irresistible like this, dressed in a loose crop top and a pair of shorts, hair falling down her shoulders in unruly waves. If someone had told Catra two months ago that this is how her Christmas Day would begin, she would have laughed at their face. Now, she just shakes her head to herself, suppresses another smile.

She feels like she has ended up in some kind of perfect alternate reality, and she’s afraid she might get sucked back into the real world at any moment. As if on cue, her phone starts ringing, causing her to flinch in surprise. As soon as she sees Grandma’s name on the screen, her heart jumps in her chest. Grandma doesn’t usually call her this early in the day. This could be either really good or really bad news.

Catra picks up her phone and walks to the front door.

“Hi, Grandma,” she says, slipping her feet into her shoes.

“Merry Christmas!” Grandma says. She sounds perky, which is a good thing. Catra imagines her sitting up in bed after breakfast, the TV buzzing in the background, soft winter light streaming in through the window. “Did I catch you at a bad time?”

Catra steps out onto the porch, pressing the door shut behind her. “No, of course not. Is everything okay?”

“Everything’s great.” She says it like she means it, and the tension in Catra’s body is already melting away, despite the biting cold outside. “I’m more concerned about you, to be honest. I hope your mother’s not giving you too much of a hard time.”

“I’m not with her right now. I’m spending Christmas with my girlfriend at a friend’s place.”

“Oh, good for you.” The relief in Grandma’s voice is palpable. Catra knows Grandma has been carrying a lot of guilt for leaving her alone with her mother for the holidays, even though Catra’s done everything she can to convince her it’s not her fault at all. “Is everything going well?”

“Oh, yeah. We’re at this lake house not far from Bright Moon. It’s really pretty out here.”

“That sounds wonderful, my dear.”

“How about you? I know no one wants to spend Christmas in a hospital, but I hope it wasn’t too bad.”

“No, no, not at all! We had a hearty meal and spent the evening listening to everyone’s favorite Christmas songs. They’ve done a good job with the decorations, I must say -- we even have a tree in our room! Not a real one, of course, but it still looks very nice.” 

“I’m glad it wasn’t completely awful.”

“It wasn’t awful at all, no, but that wasn’t why I’m calling. I have some good news, actually.”

Catra presses the phone closer to her ear. “Yeah?”

“I spoke to my doctor yesterday, and she said my recovery is going very well, even better than they had expected. If my recovery continues to go as well as it has so far, I’ll be able to go home from the hospital in the first week of January.”

Catra leans back against the wall and lets out a long breath. The weight she’s been carrying on her shoulders for the last few months has disappeared, gone in a matter of seconds. Catra has been cautiously hopeful about Grandma’s recovery for a while now, but hearing that she’s well enough to be discharged from the hospital is a pleasant surprise, and a very welcome one. She wasn’t expecting it to happen so soon, but now that it _is_ happening, there is nothing but joy in her heart, a mixture of relief and warmth and anticipation.

“Really? That’s great, Grandma.”

“It is indeed. I have been in a very good mood all day. But let’s talk more later. Tomorrow, maybe? I just wanted to make a quick call, because I know you’ve been worried about me.”

Catra cups her elbow with her free hand, hugs her arms closer to her body.

“Don’t worry about me either, okay? I’m doing well. I’m really happy.”

She’s still not good at talking about her feelings, but this is easy to say out loud, the words spilling from her lips before she’s even had a chance to process them. And it feels good to say them, because she’s telling the truth, and no one can ever take it away from her. 

She’s smiling like an idiot as she walks back into the kitchen, but she doesn’t care. This is the best Christmas gift she could ask for. Just thinking about the phone call makes her feel giddy with relief, like she’s floating over the ground. Adora looks up as she enters the room, her eyes lingering on Catra a little longer than necessary, but she doesn’t say anything, doesn’t ask her what’s going on. Catra will tell her later, but for now, she’s content with just basking in this feeling. 

“My grandma called this morning,” she says a couple of hours later, the two of them sprawled out on the couch again, cocooned in a nest of blankets. Adora is soft and sleepy and warm against Catra, and the even rise and fall of her chest is a comfort in its own right. If Catra wasn’t feeling a little nervous about this, she would have already dozed off.

“Yeah?” Adora says. Her fingers play with a strand of hair behind Catra’s ear. “How’s she doing?”

“She’s good. She said she’ll probably be released from the hospital in a couple of weeks, actually.”

Adora’s hand stills. She props herself up on one elbow, forcing Catra to scoot over and sit up, the blanket slipping off her shoulders.

“Really? That’s amazing, Catra.”

Catra glances at her before looking away. “I know. But it also means I’ll be going back to Salineas soon.”

Adora pushes herself up in a sitting position. “Isn’t that what you’ve been wanting to do ever since you came back here? You were never going to stay in Bright Moon, for obvious reasons.”

“Yeah, but things are more complicated now,” Catra says. She wraps the blanket tighter around herself, desperate for any kind of comfort.

She doesn’t need to elaborate for Adora to know what she means. Adora lets out a quiet hum and pulls her closer. Catra allows herself to lean against her, to be held, and then Adora’s fingers find her hair again, the touch feather-light.

“I guess there’s a part of me that wants to stay in Bright Moon,” Catra says. “And it’s only because of you.” 

“I don’t want you to go, either,” Adora says, voice quiet. “But at the same time, I do, if that makes sense. I know this place is not home to you anymore.”

“We can visit each other on weekends and holidays,” Catra says, even though she’s not all that excited about the thought of coming back to Bright Moon. Despite everything, the bad memories outweigh the good ones.

“We can,” Adora says.

There’s a taut silence, both of them tight-lipped and pensive. Catra thinks they could make it work if they really wanted to, but at the same time, she knows it’s not going to be easy. Salineas is a five-hour plane ride away. They’d only be able to see each other a few times a year, if even that, but she’ll do it if she has to, especially if the alternative is not seeing each other at all. 

“It’s not like I have to stay in Bright Moon, you know,” Adora says after what feels like a very long pause. “I’ve thought about it before. About starting over somewhere else. I want to go to college, maybe get a part-time job or something. And I always imagined it happening somewhere far away.”

Catra pulls away a little too quickly, heart jumping in her chest as she turns to look at Adora. “Do you mean--”

“I could come with you, but only if it’s okay with you,” Adora says.

“Are you kidding? Of course it’s okay. If we still lived in our old house, you would have been welcome to stay with us until you get everything sorted out.”

“Where will you live now, if you had to move out of your house?”

“We’ve been talking about moving my grandma into assisted living. I was thinking of renting an apartment near her new home, but I’ll have to find a job first, obviously.”

“Right. Guess I’ll have to start looking for jobs, too.”

Catra leans back against the couch, settling into the cushions. She can’t stop smiling. But her head is spinning, too, because they’re discussing this so casually, like it’s not a big deal for Adora at all, but it is, because she’s planning to move across the country, away from everything she’s ever known-- 

“Wait,” Catra says. “Are you really sure about this?”

Adora takes Catra’s hand and squeezes it between her own. She looks at Catra in the eye, expression soft and serious at once.

“Yes, I’m sure,” she says. “I mean, yeah, it’s a big change, but it doesn’t have to happen right away. You’ll go back to Salineas in a couple of weeks, and I’ll follow you as soon as I find a job and a place to stay. We’ll do things at our own pace, okay?” 

Catra nods. “We’ll figure everything out together.”

“We will,” Adora says.

It’s a lot to take in at once. It doesn’t feel real. None of this feels real, but she’s been through enough to be able to tell the difference between a dream and reality, and she’s very much awake right now, possibly even more so than ever before. Catra allows her eyes to flutter shut for a moment, takes a deep breath, and lets it all sink in.

(She has a lot of reasons to be happy.)

“Salineas, huh?” Adora says, testing the word on her tongue. “I’ve only been there once. The beaches over there are really nice. You still don’t like swimming, right?”

Catra opens her eyes.

“I hate it,” she says firmly. “I’ve never been to a beach in Salineas, not even as a kid.”

Adora raises a skeptical eyebrow at her. “Really, Catra?”

“Yeah, really. We didn’t live that close to the beach, anyway.”

“But you’re okay with snow? Isn’t that kind of the same thing?”

Catra can’t help but roll her eyes at this. “It’s _definitely_ not the same thing, Adora.”

“So you wouldn’t mind if we went out for a walk, decided to take a shortcut, and ended up waist-deep in snow? Ooh, I know! We could build a snowman in the backyard. I think the weather’s perfect for it.”

Adora’s unbridled enthusiasm makes Catra smile. Yes, they still have most of the afternoon ahead of them. There will be enough time for everything: for having fun outside in the snow, for snacking on gingerbread cookies while watching movies on TV, for cuddling up by the fireplace and talking well into the night. A series of perfect little moments, sprinkled with a touch of magic. And the best part of it is that there will be more of them, tomorrow and next week and next year, a lot of happy memories to be created and cherished. 

Catra stands up, the blanket sliding off her shoulders and falling onto the couch, and holds out her hand for Adora.

“Come on,” she says. “Let’s have hot chocolate first.”


End file.
